


Endeavour: March

by Parakeetist



Category: Endeavour (TV), Inspector Morse & Related Fandoms, Inspector Morse (TV)
Genre: Accidental dosing, Caravaggio - Freeform, Classes, Drug Use, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fiancees - Freeform, Loss of Virginity, Morse's father, Museums, Oxford, Parties, Popcorn, School, Students, Taxi Cabs, The Martyrdom of Saint Peter, University, movies - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-08 11:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19868863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parakeetist/pseuds/Parakeetist
Summary: Set during Endeavour's university days. He takes an accidental dose of something at a party, and winds up learning some unpleasant things about the real world.I am sure this is not the way the relationship between Morse and Fallon happened. It is a part of Morse's life I wanted to explore. This is the result.Some semi-graphic sexual encounters.





	Endeavour: March

Endeavour: March  
by Parakeetist

Endeavour staggered around the party. He smiled at everyone, signaling that he could handle his liquor. At least, he thought that’s what he was communicating. They thought anything but. 

His classmate, Harris Buford, watched him and shook his head. Had they given him a drink with something else in it? He decided to find out. 

Harris wandered through the crowd and found the man who was fixing drinks. “What did you give that guy?”

“Who?” the man said. 

Harris pointed out Morse. “Did you add a drug to that man’s drink? Tell me or I’ll call the cops.”

“I don’t remember. I'm just bartending here. Sometimes people ask for things, so I give it to them.”  


“What’s your name?”  


“John Brent.”  


“John, don’t make me have to take you outside.”  


“Ah, here’s some other cups. Maybe he drank from one of those.” Brent pointed to a row of plastic cups. Harris picked up one.  


He sniffed it. He was a pre-med student, and knew what the smell was immediately. Ketamine. The poor fellow would be in a hole in a few minutes. A dark, frightening hole. He would need someone to walk him home.  


Harris approached Morse. “We’ve got to take you out of here.”  


“Why?” said Morse, with an idiot grin.  


“You’re going to be sick very soon. Somebody gave you ketamine, in addition to the liquor it was in. I have to take you home, or else you will suffer some very adverse effects.”  


Morse looked baffled. “Why’d they do that?” He wobbled back and forth, and started to play with his right ear.  


“Doesn’t matter right now. Let’s get you home. Now, where do you live?”  


Endeavour told him, and Harris took him to the car. As they neared the location, Morse gestured to him to stop.  


“I have to get out. Have to.” He opened the door.  


Harris slammed on the brakes. “Why, man? Just let me-”  


Endeavour jumped out. He stumbled, then stood to full height. He ran up the street and turned a corner.  


“What the hell?” Buford turned the corner, but did not see Morse. The man had gotten away. He sighed, then headed back to his own flat.

…

Endeavour headed up St. John’s Street. He thought he saw someone he knew. He waved at her.  


He caught up to her. She was blonde. “Hey, did I see you at the party?”  


“Ah, yes.”  


“What’s your name?”  


“Why do you need to know?”  


“I’d just like to.” He smiled.  


“Not telling,” she said, and ran up the stairs to her flat.  


He followed. “Talk to me! I’m all alone.” Again, he smiled.  


“Get out. I don’t like you.”  


“Come on! You haven’t given me a chance yet.”  


She opened the door and ran inside. She shut it immediately.  


Morse frowned and turned to face the street. Then he spun back around, and took a little spike out of his pocket. He always carried it, in case his friends lost the keys to their cars. He put it to the keyhole and worked it.  


The lock opened. He went in.  


He looked at the list of names next to the mailboxes. He didn’t know any of them, but decided to look anyway. First floor was Silverman, Randucci, Taylor. Second was Fallon, Gibbs, Monarch.  


None of the people on the first floor were home. He took the stairs to the second level.  


He thought about knocking on the door, then inserted the fob in the lock again. He wiggled it, and the doorknob snapped. He went in.  


Endeavour crept through the front room, over to the little kitchen. He scanned the door until he found it. Her name, on a phone bill. Susan.  


He found the bedroom and opened the door. He smirked. This was going to be funny.  


In minutes, Fallon came out and walked in the room. She was wrapped in a towel. She headed right to the dresser and began to look for a nightshirt.  


Susan found one and put it on. She turned to face the bed.  


And screamed. “What are you doing? I told you to get out of here! I’ll stab you next time!”  


“You don’t even have a knife.” Endeavour couldn’t stop smiling.  


“In the nightstand, I do! Now get out of here!”  


“Why are you-”  


She reached into the drawer in the table and looked for the weapon. He leaned over and went to grab hold of her.  


The next several minutes were a blur. The drugs finally bit into his brain. He couldn’t see a thing. He was aware that he was moving, that she crawled in his direction. And then he didn’t know anything at all.  


Endeavour woke up on the steps in front of the flat. His flies were undone. There was a familiar stain on the front of his slacks. Humiliated, he straightened out his clothes and stood up.  


What the hell happened? Had they actually had sex? Had anybody been forced to do anything?  


Morse was terrified. Better leave before the police got here. He ran down the block. Soon, he was home.

…

Endeavour saw her again after class the next week. He rushed up to her.  


“Susan, I want to apologize for what happened after the party. Are you doing okay in class?”  


She narrowed her eyes. “Yes, as it happens.”  


“Good. Mind if we go to a movie later on?”  


He was panting so hard, she felt a little sorry for him. “Well, okay. But not too late.”  


“There’s one at four o’clock. Will you be out by then?”  


“I should.”  


“Great. I’ll pick you up.”  


He flashed a massive grin. She blinked.  


“See you.” She turned and left.  


Time passed. At precisely four, he went to the place where he had last seen her. She walked up.  


“I’d drive you, but I don’t have a car.” He beamed. “Going to get a Jaguar someday.”  


“That’s ambitious. What are we going to see?”  


“It’s called ‘The Wash.’ It has Kevin Burke in it.”  


“I don’t know him.”  


“Well, hopefully you enjoy it.”  


They went to the theater. Twenty minutes into the movie, Endeavour had devoured half the popcorn. Then he dropped the bucket, and spilled the other half.  


“Wait, let me-” He reached down to grab the container. Susan put a hand over her face.  


“I didn’t even get to have any,” she muttered.  


Endeavour pulled the bucket back up. He shook it, and saw there was no more snack in it. “Oh, damn,” he said, and put it on the chair next to him.  


When the film was over, he turned to Susan. “Want to get a drink?”  


“You really shouldn’t touch liquor. You drank something with a strong drug in it.”  


“Is that why you threw me out?”  


Susan turned away. “Let’s not talk about that.” She got up and walked out of the aisle.  


Endeavour couldn’t get up soon enough. He chased after her.  


She was faster. By the time he got to the lobby, he couldn’t see her. He asked someone to go in the ladies’ room and check for him. Not there either.  


Frustrated, he took the long walk home. Endeavour couldn’t hear anything as he sat down to eat dinner. The TV was a blur.  


He picked up the phone and called his father. “Dad?”  


“Who is this?”  


“It’s your son.”  


“Why do you want me?”  


“Ah, I just wanted to see how you were doing.”  


“I’m fine. Goodbye.” He hung up.  


Endeavour stared at the receiver. He put it down. Everything kept going wrong for him today. Maybe he should just stop trying.  


He used the bathroom and changed into pajamas. Then he lay down. His bed felt cool. He rolled onto his stomach and fell asleep.

…

Morse got up. He went to class in a button-up shirt and his pajama pants. He didn’t notice, until he glanced down at his lap. He grimaced. The professor looked once, narrowed his eyes as if he didn’t understand what he was looking at, and went back to writing on the blackboard.  


Endeavour trudged home and put away his things. He used the washroom and slapped his hands on the towel. Then he went to his room and lay down.  


The phone did not ring. The TV and radio were off. He could hear the whoosh of the ceiling fan. He thought no further.

…

Endeavour was in the library when he saw Susan walk past the window. He hurried to grab his things, and raced out the door.  


“Hey, it’s me, remember?” he huffed as he ran up to her. “Miss Collins-”  


“It’s Fallon,” she said, not bothering to hide her annoyance.  


“Mind if I take you out to lunch?”  


“Yes.”  


“Did you already eat?”  


“Something like that.”  


“Oh. Well, did you want to watch me eat?”  


“No. I have to be somewhere else now.” She scooted ahead of him.  


He ran around and faced her front. “What if-”  


“If you bother me again, I’ll call the police.” She broke into a run.  


He stared after her.

…

Morse removed the last page of his paper from the typewriter and scanned it for errors. It had none he could pick out. He put it with the others and stuck it together with a paper clip.  


It was 1958. Endeavour had just passed his twentieth birthday. He knew his father and his stepmother weren’t going to come to take him out. He left the building and strolled along the block. No particular cuisine popped up in his mind. Morse hated the thought of eating at a vendor’s cart.  


Suddenly he saw a girl walking ahead of him. She was wearing a long yellow jacket, which made no sense given the time of year. The hood was pulled up around her face.  


“Excuse me, do you know a place to go for lunch?” Morse said.  


The young woman did not turn her head. “Wouldn’t you know that better than me? You go to school here, right?” Her voice was raspy. She had the beginnings of a cold.  


“Yes. Do you know any place?”  


“What kind of food do you like?”  


“Ah, Indian?”  


“There are a hundred places in this town.”  


“More like a few dozen.” He grinned.  


“Well, one’s up that way. Turn right, and up two blocks. It’s called Paradise.”  


“Thanks. And you are?” He scooted ahead so that he was even with her.  


Endeavour didn’t quite catch what she said in reply. A bit of hair came out of the hood. It was black.  


She dashed ahead of him. He didn’t follow. His luck was lousy lately.

…

Morse ate dinner, which wasn’t spicy enough, and left a tip. Once outside, he had to sit on a bench for a while. His feet were hurting. It was much too soon for him to feel old.  


He thought he’d give Susan a call. Even though she had brushed him off before, he wanted one more chance. She owed it to him.  


She picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”  


“Hi, this is-”  


“I know your voice.”  


“Did you want to do something later on?”  


“I don’t know. I’ve got a Film Studies class tonight.”  


“What time is it? Do they admit guests?”  


Fallon sighed. “No. I don’t think so.”  


“Where are you studying?”  


“It’s none of your-”  


“Let me come over. I’d like to meet with you.”  


Meet with? Was this man talking about reading a financial chart or something? She almost hung up at that moment, but something in his fast-paced, high-pitched voice made her pity him. “All right. I’m in St. John’s Street.”  


“I remember where that is. See you soon.” He smiled and hung up. He hurried to the bus. That Jaguar would come in pretty handy someday.

…

He got off a short distance from her front door. He knocked.  


She peered out from behind the sliding lock. “Yes?”  


“It’s me.” Endeavour hoped his smile would charm her.  


“Oh.” She opened the lock. He stepped in.  


She walked to her flat and shut the door behind them. “Now, what is it?”  


He blushed and scratched his right ear. “Ah, I wanted-” He giggled.  


She headed for the washroom and shut the door. He wandered into the bedroom. He was hoping to surprise her.  


She surprised him. She came out covered in a sheet. Susan turned and faced the wall. She lifted the sheet and gently waved it. “Let’s get this over with.”  


He was terrified.

…

He was done in a few seconds. He lay back and blinked, puzzled.  


“I was your first,” Susan said. It was not a question. Morse didn’t know what to say.  


“Ah-”  


Fallon mumbled something he didn’t quite catch.  


Endeavour hadn’t even had time to take off all his clothes. Or any of them. His belt and zipper had been undone and his underclothes pushed out of the way, that was all. He blushed like a nuclear accident. “Can I take a shower?”  


“Go home,” Susan said.  


Morse gulped, and refastened his slacks. He was up and out of there like a shot. He realized he hadn’t even told her his name.

…

Next morning, Harris Buford called Michael Reynolds, his friend who had hosted the party. “Hello,” he said. “Can I ask you a few questions?”  


“Sure, buddy. Go for it.”  


“Did you throw out your garbage from that get-together the other day?”  


“Let me check. No, looks like I didn’t.”  


“I need to do some testing on those plastic cups.”  


“I still have some of them.”  


“Put them in a bag for me. I’ll be right over.”  


“Affirmative.”

…

Michael opened the door. He held a bag with some cups in it. “There you go. Best of luck.”  


“Thank you. Need any money?”  


“No, I’m all full.”  


“Thanks again. See you.”  


“Bye now.”  


Harris walked out of the building. He checked one of the cups. There was still residue in the bottom. More than enough to take swabs and send them to the lab. He wasn’t sure which one Morse had used, but all he needed was a general idea. 

…

Endeavour was walking in from class when the phone rang. He ran to pick it up.  


“Morse?”  


“Smarty-pants, that’s not your first name,” his half-sister Joyce said.  


“How are you?”  


“Decent. Are you doing okay in class?”  


“I’ve got a paper to hand in.”  


“For?”  


“Ancient Greek.”  


“Did you have to type it?”  


“Yes.”  


“Good Lord. Your typewriter doesn’t have any Greek letters. How did you finish it?”  


He laughed. “You got it.”  


“Happy birthday. I sent you a card. Sorry it’s late.”  


“Thank you. That’s very kind.”  


“Can I take the bus and see you?”  


“Not now. Maybe for Christmas. I’ve got some things to work on.”  


“Okay. Bye.”  


“Goodbye now.” They both hung up.  


She was fourteen. Now he was at school, she didn’t have anyone to ride bikes with. Poor kid was probably still going in a circle in the backyard. Joyce’s mother, Gwen, probably wouldn’t let her ride up and down the block.  


He kicked the floor and let his thoughts wander. There came a knock on the door.  


Harris was there. “How are you doing?”  


“Still here,” Morse said. “What have you got under your arm?”  


“A packet from the laboratory. Here, let me show you.”  


Harris stepped in the room. Endeavour shut the door. Buford held out a paper. “See this? This is my invoice from what I just turned in.” Morse leaned over and read it.  


“’Four cups, containing residue. Slight smell of alcohol. Possible remains of drugs in bottom.’ Drugs?”  


“Like the ketamine you were given. From the smells, I suspect cocaine as well. God knows what else.”  


Endeavour was shocked. “Are you sure? I don’t remember some of the aftermath.”  


“That lines up well with what I suspect.”  


“Who are you, Sherlock Holmes?” Endeavour smiled a little.  


“I do not live in London and I am not a detective. I came over to let you know I dropped the cups off. Please be careful. Don’t drink heavily and don’t use anything stronger than a couple of aspirin.”  


“I’ll be careful.”  


“Really now. I want to live to see you graduate.”  


“Ah, thank you.” Morse ducked his head and blushed.  


“I’ll be going now.”  


“Thanks for letting me know.”  


“See you.”  


Endeavour closed the door.

…

Susan bumped into Endeavour a few days later, at the chemist. He was picking up some cough medicine. She was getting shampoo.  


“Hello,” he said.  


She nodded. “Here we are.”  


The cashier called to Morse. He stepped up and payed for his purchase. She paid for hers.  


They walked out. “So, how are you?”  


“All right. That lunch is looking better now.”  


“Oh? Where would you like to go?”  


She shrugged. “Anywhere close.”

…

Over the next few months, she softened to him. At least, that was what he thought.  


They slept together a few times. She always got on top, and he was always nervous. Sometimes he lost the power to feel his body. She did not seem to notice. He wondered whether he was getting sick. He did remember the French letters.  


Endeavour made his decision. He walked into the charity store with a few pounds in his wallet. That would have to be enough.  


He bought what he wanted and left the shop. He smiled and looked up and down the street.  


Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Susan. She was walking with someone else. A cousin? A classmate? He pressed himself against the wall and crept closer.  


She was laughing and tossing her hair. The couple stopped on the steps of a museum. They leaned their heads together and kissed. On the lips.  


Endeavour blinked. What was that? What was wrong with her? Had he just seen that?  


He stumbled a little as he walked away from the wall. Susan was in the museum before he could stop her.  


Morse looked through the glass front wall of the building. He could see banners inside, advertising the exhibits, and signs that said ‘Wait here for docents.’ He went through the rotating door and approached the desk.  


“Morning,” the attendant said. “Are you a student?”  


“Yes.”  


“Do you have an ID?”  


Morse took out his card. The man checked it, and gave him a ticket. “It’s free. Today we have a film in the viewing hall.”  


“Thank you.” Morse paid and took the map of the facility. “Where are the Italian paintings?”  


“Right down that hall.” The clerk pointed. “Enjoy your visit.”  


“Thank you.” Morse strode down the hall.  


He caught up with her in the Caravaggio exhibit. She was standing in front of ‘The Martyrdom of St. Peter.’  


“St. Paul was beheaded on the same day,” Endeavour said as he walked up. She only raised her eyebrows.  


“Enjoying the show?” Morse tried again.  


“Not as much as I hoped.”  


“You don’t like paintings?”  


“I wanted something to do.”  


“You could have waited for me. Or asked your friend to come in.”  


“What friend?”  


“That man.” He cleared his throat. “You kissed him.”  


“So what if I did?”  


“Well, did you want to tell me about it?”  


They were getting noisy now. Another guest, a man in his late twenties, stepped up to them.  


“Excuse me, keep it down.”  


“I don’t believe you know me,” Morse said.  


“What does that have to do with anything?”  


“Look, take it outside.”  


“I will not.”  


The man got closer, nearly nose to nose with Morse. “I’m a cricket player by trade. Don’t try me.”  


“Okay. Ah, okay. I don’t want this to continue.” Endeavour turned to face Susan. “I hope you – you – you still want this.” He stuttered as he took from his pocket the box from the store. “See, I-” He dropped the box. It skittered across the floor. He continued to stutter as he picked it up. “Ah, open it up. See what it is.”  


“Is it a necklace?” Fallon asked.  


“No.”  


“Earrings?”  


“No.”  


“I’ll take it.” She grabbed the box. “I’ll see what it is later.” She walked toward the front door.  


“Wait! Don’t you want me to watch you open it?” He rushed toward her.  


“Goodbye.” She hurried to the bus station and got on one just after it pulled up to the curb.  


Endeavour stopped just as the bus began to pull away. He saw her sitting by an open window.  


“Let’s get married! Hey!” he shouted.  


The bus drove off.

…

Morse walked into a pub. He went up to the counter and plunked down a bunch of pound notes. “The best brandy you have.”  


Hours later, he was swirling his sixth double around in a circle, as he continued an argument with another man about the national cricket team. “So what if they’re shit?” Endeavour shouted. “I still like them!”  


“No dispute about that,” the other man said. “I just said they need a new bowler. Have you even been to a match?”  


“So what if I haven’t? It’s my business!”  


He pounded his glass on the table. A waiter approached him.  


“Hey, you want to watch that. And you’ve been overserved.”  


“Nah, give me another one!”  


The man took the glass from his hand. “No more. Leave.”  


Endeavour stood up. He listed to one side. “I’m – I’m-”  


“Here.” The waiter put a hand under Endeavour’s elbow and guided him to the phone. “I’ll make the call.” He phoned a taxi company and spoke for a few minutes. Then he hung up. “Come with me. You need some fresh air.”  


He walked Morse out to a bench. Endeavour leaned over as he sat down.  


The taxi arrived. The waiter helped Morse get up, placed him in the back seat, and paid the driver. The cab moved into the road.  


…

Endeavour staggered into his flat and just made it to the commode. He threw up voluminously. When it was over, he did not bother to take a shower. He crawled into bed.  


Morse slept on his stomach. One arm trailed over the side of the bed.

…

For days afterward, when Endeavour did not have class, he wandered around aimlessly. He was passing a small park when he again spied the lady in the big coat.  


He sat down next to her on the bench. “How are you?”  


Once again, she kept the hood of her coat nearly closed. A strand of black hair wandered out. She twirled her finger in it. His heart thrilled a bit. “I’m terrible with names. You are?”  


“Call me Morse.” He smiled.  


“That’s not your first name.”  


“Caught me on the first shot. Are you at St. Hilda’s?”  


“Maybe. I haven’t finished college yet.”  


“It’s too hot for that jacket.”  


“Hmm.” She tugged at the hood.  


“Do you want smokes?” He took a pack out of his pocket.  


“No. I’m trying to quit.”  


“Oh. I should, too.” He put them back.  


They both looked into the distance. Then he got up. “I’ll see you later.”  


“Sure,” the young woman said.  


Morse walked away.

…

He was buying groceries when he next ran into Fallon. She was with her new friend.  


“Who is this?” he said as he walked up.  


“I can associate with whomever I please,” she said.  


“Adam Sinclair,” the other man said.  


Morse held out a hand. The other man did not shake it.  


“Why don’t we sit down and have a drink?” Endeavour proffered.  


“Why don’t we not?” Adam said.  


“Did you like the art show the other day?” Morse leaned back and forth on his feet. Susan just shrugged. “I could take you to another one. We can go to a different place.”  


“We’re engaged.” She nodded at Adam.  


“What are you talking about?” Morse squeaked. “He’s, he’s-”  


Adam nodded. “If you’re not doing anything, the produce section is well stocked.”  


The two of them walked out of the market. Morse flung out his arms and leaned against the bread aisle. 

…

Endeavour sat on the edge of the bed. He tilted his head. His hands were between his knees. He had given her a ring. She had not given it back to him, so he couldn’t even return it.  


He daydreamed. Susan’s face, and Adam’s, flickered in and out. They were in a large room with silver walls. Shrieks of some kind of animal came from the speakers.  


The phone rang. It was Harris.  


“How’re you doing? The lab tests came back.”  


“Oh?”  


“You probably used a cup that contained residue of ketamine, cocaine, some kind of roach killer, and paint.”  


“Paint?”  


“Paint. They must have mixed these in some kind of punch bowl before the party got going.”  


“I’m all right now. Are we going to file any charges?”  


“No. The crowd was too mixed, it was days ago - just don’t ever drink with those people again.”  


“Okay. I won’t go back.”  


“Good. Are you okay now?”  


“Yes. I have to eat something.”  


“Keep up your strength. Maybe we’ll go to the arcade tomorrow, after class. We’ll play tabletop hockey.”  


“Okay. Thank you.”  


“Bye.” Buford hung up.  


Endeavour reheated some chicken and pasta. He ate very slowly. Then he went back to his room, removed all but his underclothes, and slipped under his sheets. They felt cool. He prayed he would not have nightmares.  


He did not.

…

Days later, Morse took another walk. In a field across the street, a marching band was taking practice. He watched them for a while.  


The tuba player did his own steps in place. He tooted on the horn. The director told him to stand still.  


Endeavour thought this music was more popular in the States, but he stood and listened for a while. They were playing John Philip Sousa. They were all right.  


He went home and put the news on the radio. He picked up a book about power plants and began to read.

... 

Months later, Endeavour’s grades were terrible. He didn’t sign up for new classes. He was done.  


He thought about joining the army. It couldn’t be too bad. Other people got through it all the time. When he got out – God willing, in only a few years – he would look for a permanent job. Maybe in a bank. Or a school. Or, God help him, the police department.  


Endeavour called a taxi and packed his boxes of things into the trunk. He asked to be taken to his father’s house. He thought about Joyce. She must be fourteen by now. They could ride bikes together.  


When he arrived at his father’s place, he paid the cab driver, and unloaded his things. The man drove away. Endeavour approached the door of the house. He looked at it for a moment. From inside the house, he could hear his stepmother scolding Joyce. The poor kid.  


Then Endeavour opened the door, and began to take in his things. He sneaked upstairs without alerting Gwen.  


When he was done with the boxes, he used the bathroom, then sat down in his old room. He put on the radio. Were they playing Albinoni? He drummed his fingers in the air. He could become a conductor.  


Then Endeavour laughed. The idea was crazy. Had to find something else.  


He took out some pieces of paper and began to scribble ciphers on it. He’d learned the method from books in the library. Already, he’d have a jump on all the other clerks in the Army.  


Somebody knocked on the door. It was Joyce.  


“You’re back from school?”  


“Yes. How’ve you been?”  


She shrugged. “Decent.”  


“You look tired.”  


“Long day. We had to practice calculus.”  


“Stick with it. You want to ride bikes tomorrow?”  


“If it isn’t raining. I’m going to take a nap now.” She yawned and stretched.  


“Give your brother a hug," Endeavour said. She did. "See you later.”  


“See you.”  


She walked to her room. Morse abandoned his writing and took off his shoes. He lay down in bed.  


He dreamed about the girl with the black hair.


End file.
